


Pole Position

by Bunnywest



Series: Rabbit verse [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Sex, Knotting, M/M, Oral Sex, Peter is a pole dancer, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-13 07:01:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11179518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Peter's a terrible teacher. But he has such determined students.





	1. A dachshund going down stairs.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear to god, this started out as a thousand words of fluff, and now there are two chapters and the actual exact opposite of what I started to write has happened. Also, smut snuck in - it was an accident, I swear!! Hope you enjoy our pole dancing boys :)

Peter point blank refuses to teach Stiles to pole dance. He claims he can’t risk the damage to life and limb that an airborne Stilinski could cause.

Stiles whines and moans, but he’s he’s not allowed on the pole, despite his protests that he has the strength now, and that maybe one of what he’s dubbed his Superwolf powers is incredibly sexy dance moves, and hello, he does technically own those poles anyway.

Determined Stiles is determined, and Peter finally caves when he threatens to get one of the other dancers to teach him.

“Fiiiine” Peter groans out one Saturday morning, “Here’s what’s happening. We go in today. You have one hour. I teach you the basics. _But_ if there’s any kind of injury or property damage, that’s the end of it. Deal?”

Which seems harsh to Stiles, I mean OK, he may still be learning the limits of his strength, but he hasn’t done that much damage, just the plate glass door at the cabin, and the wall, and the kitchen cabinets, and the railing around the bar at BBW when he was swinging on it idly, and the banister on the stairs was just an accident waiting to happen, and he swears the handle on their fridge door was probably loose anyway. And he’s stopped picking Peter up and throwing him now, so that can only be good, right?

Still, he agrees to Peter’s terms.

 

In all honesty, Peter has low expectations for the whole thing, because Stiles is, well, Stiles. He’s funny, and he’s quirky, and he’s cute and he has an indefinable charm, and Peter needs him like air….. but he’s not graceful. He tends towards flailing and throwing his husband through windows.

Peter suspects that watching Stiles dance will be like watching a dachshund going down a flight of stairs  - entertaining, but not particularly sexy.

Stiles laughs and jokes through the training, because that’s how he is, but he pays enough attention that after Peter runs him through the basics, he gets the idea. Peter just hopes he can manage not to hurt himself.

Stiles strips down to just his shorts, flexes his arms, winks at Peter, and gets on the pole.

 

It’s  when the music starts that it suddenly all changes.

It’s Prince’s ‘When Doves Cry’, and Stiles kills it.

 

Peter knows Stiles still doesn’t think of himself as sexy, but looking at him up there, swiveling and twisting, Peter’s husband is a goddam work of art.

Because suddenly, with the addition of a pounding bass beat, Stiles has acquired some sort of sinuous grace from nowhere.

 He’s twisting his body round the pole like he was born to it, flexing his hips with the beat of the music and shimmying effortlessly up and down, his body stretched out long and lean like an obscene offering to the gods.

Stiles isn’t tanned and rugged like the other Weres who grace the poles at Jungle.  His legs are lean, like columns of white marble, instead of thick muscles. 

His face looks like that of an angel, with his long lashes and pixie grin, and sprinkling of moles. His tattoos stand out in stark relief to the rest of his pale creamy flesh, the words on his side visible to all as he spins around, back arched towards the ground, legs gripping on firmly, head thrown back and arms thrown wide.

His abs are tensed and glistening, and his piercings gleam with sweat.  His hair is messy and damp, spikes sticking up enticingly, and Peter just wants to sink his hands into it.

 The tattoo across his chest moves and rolls as he flexes his pecs, gripping the pole and changing position so that he’s holding himself out from the pole at ninety degrees, spreading his legs wide as he swings in slow, lazy arcs.

His forearms and biceps bulge and ripple enticingly. When he brings his feet to the pole on the outside of his hands and swings while bent in half, ass on display, it’s more than Peter can handle.

Peter strides over to the pole, growling “Off. Now”

Stiles takes one look at his face and with a swing of his hips removes his legs and then hops down. Peter throws him over his shoulder and carries him off to the office, growling and swearing all the way. He locks the door behind him and deposits Stiles on the day bed that’s made its way into the office for times just like this. His hands are running up and down Stiles’ body, and he’s growling out “So damn sexy, …….looked like a god up there.....you don’t even know….mine, only mine”. 

Stiles cocks an eyebrow, bemused by the possessive display. He doesn’t get it really. He’s seen himself in the mirror, and he thinks he’s not bad, especially with his new wolfy physique, but he doesn’t think he holds a candle to a lot of other guys, Peter included.

Peter’s aggressively scenting him now, nose buried in the crook of his neck, breathing deep. He feels himself being moved and rearranged until he’s straddling Peter’s lap. He can feel a telltale bulge there, and shamelessly grinds down.

“Like what you saw Wolfman? Told you I could make that pole my bitch” he teases.

Peter groans, low and deep, and tears off the running shorts Stiles is wearing. He strips his own clothing off rapidly, pushes Stiles onto his back and climbs over him, bracketing him with his body.  He kisses his husband long and deep, and grinds them together. Stiles presses back, needing no encouragement at all. If this goes how he thinks it will, he’s in for a fast, hard ride, and he’s totally down for it. Werewolf healing means that they can really play rough  - he loves it.  They grind together until they’re both hard enough to cut diamonds, then he pushes Peter back a little so he can get one arm down the side of the couch to where he knows they have lube, because of reasons, y’know.

He rolls them over so he’s on top, slicks Peter’s length up, positions himself over it, and just….sinks down. It burns, and it makes his eyes water, but he keeps pressing down until it’s all the way in, swearing under his breath.

Peter is wide eyed under him, trembling from the sensation of Stiles engulfing his cock so suddenly.  “Fuck, so tight rabbit, fuck” he breathes.

Stiles gives himself a moment to adjust, and then he starts to move. He keeps his hands on Peter’s chest as he eases up and down, gathering pace as his body gets used to the intrusion, and then he’s riding hard and fast.  For long minutes there’s nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing, the squelch of lube, and the slapping of flesh on flesh.

 Stiles starts twisting at Peter’s nipples, earning a grunt or a moan, and squeezing his ass rhythmically as he presses down. It doesn’t take long before Peter snaps his hips up suddenly and stills, his climax catching him by surprise. Stiles grins in triumph. He starts stroking his own cock, and soon enough he’s coming as well.

They catch their breath, and he sprawls off to the side smiling widely. Peter has his arm thrown over his eyes, and is making small whining noises as he recovers.

Stiles pokes him.

“So does this mean I’m allowed on the pole now?’

“No” Peter grits out. “No pole for you”.

Stiles sits up then, saying “Come on, I mean I know I’m not super sexy, but hey, I didn’t suck that bad”.

Peter moves his arm and regards his husband steadily.

“You idiot” he sighs. “The problem is that you didn’t suck at _all._ It drove my wolf wild. I don’t think I can ever let anyone else see you dance – I might have to kill them for looking at you”.

Stiles is torn between being indignant that Peter gets to dance and he doesn’t, (what sort of bullshit double standard is that?) and flattered at the thought that Peter could be jealous over this.  After  a moment’s deliberation he goes with flattered, partly because he knows that if he _was_ the sort to get jealous, and if he asked, Peter would willingly stop dancing, and partly because he can feel through their bond that Peter is one hundred percent deadly serious about how possessive he feels right now.

“Soooo, if I can’t dance here, can we maybe get one of those portable poles for home? I mean, only if you wanted, obviously….” 

Ten minutes and  $169.95 later,  they have one on order for delivery in 48 hours.

God bless the internet.


	2. Pole 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jordan want's Noah's attention. Peter's going to help him get it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, once again, plot and porn where there was no plot and porn before. It's three chapters now....

It’s always been a guilty pleasure of Noah’s that he likes to fall asleep after sex while he’s still inside his partner. He loves the feeling of smooth skin against his still sensitive cock, the warmth and security of it. He likes it even better now, when he wakes and he can rock forwards into Jordan’s ass and fuck him while he sleeps on unaware.

It’s a newly discovered guilty pleasure of Jordan’s that he loves almost nothing better than going to sleep with Noah spooned up behind him, still inside him, after they make love. The only thing he loves better is when Noah wakes up hard, and fucks straight into him without asking first.

The first time it happened, it was honestly just by chance. They were tired, and they dozed. Noah was only half awake, rutting on instinct alone as he drifted towards full consciousness. Jordan was on the edge of sleep, not quite aware of what was happening, pressing back into the stretch and tug of a hard cock pressing into his still loose hole. Suddenly Noah had pulled out with a curse, realising what he’d been doing. ‘Fuck Jordan, I’m sorry, I was asleep, I thought I was dreaming” he stammered out.

Jordan, still sleep addled, had half rolled over, and asked him “Why’d you stop? I liked it.”

Noah had looked at him, brow furrowed, and asked “Really? Because it felt like I was taking without asking, and that’s not my thing”.

This had led to a blushing Jordan confessing to loving it when they went to sleep with Noah still wedged in his ass. He’d admitted that given Noah’s considerable size, it had felt good to be stretched out and still ready when they woke again. He’d  owned that there was nothing he liked better than what he termed a “stealth fuck”, the feeling of being woken up by Noah’s hard cock pressing in without warning.

Noah had stared at him for a moment, before huffing out a deep breath, saying “You don’t mind. You _really_ don’t mind if I wake up and roll you over and slide in without asking. You sure about that?”

Jordan, more awake now, had smiled his dazzling smile, and said “I don’t even mind if you don’t wake me first. Consider this blanket consent to fuck me awake whenever you want. I _like_ it, Noah”

 Noah’s eyebrows had climbed into his hairline, even as he’d pressed Jordan back onto his side, hitched his top leg forward, and resumed his position behind him, sliding back in with a grunt and a sigh. Now that they were awake, he’d rutted with a little more force, and it hadn’t taken long for him to spill into Jordan, adding to the mess of come and lube still there from last night. Jordan had been stroking himself lazily, and at the feeling of Noah pressing in tight as he came, just nudging his prostate, he found his own release.  They lay there for a while, in beautiful disarray, before Noah murmured into his neck “Blanket permission, huh?”

“Oh fuck yes, anytime” Jordan had slurred back, high on endorphins and the feeling of being taken.

He’s never revoked that permission, never wanted to, and Noah takes full advantage of it. Jordan revels in it, in the thought that the older man finds him desirable enough that he wants him instinctively.

He worries a little that one day, now that he’s stepped back into the dating pool, Noah will realise he can have anyone he wants. It’s a tiny niggle of doubt, and he mostly keeps it under control, but it tends to come roaring to the forefront of his brain at 2am. Which is why being stealth fucked at 4am is exactly what he needs to shut that voice up.

When they watch Peter on the pole at the buck’s night, Jordan sees something hungry  in Noah’s eyes, and he doesn’t like it much.  A nasty little coil of worry and jealousy curls in his gut and sits there, churning.  He knows that he needn’t worry about Peter, the man’s getting married in a few days, but it’s the thought of his boyfriend looking at anyone who isn’t _him_ like that. When they’re playing round on the poles afterwards though, he thinks that maybe he can get the Sheriff’s attention all the way on him, if he can get Peter to cooperate.

It’s easier than he thinks. They slip into the office and he explains to Peter why he wants to learn. When he tells him “I want Noah to look at me the way Stiles looks at you” Peter puts his hands over his face and groans.

“Are all young people this stupid?” he asks the world at large. “Parrish, he already does. He’s been gone on you since you pulled that damn stunt with the speedo at the pool.”

Jordan’s genuinely surprised. “Really? because he was looking at you pretty damned hard on that pole” and he can’t keep the edge of bitterness out of his tone.

Peter gives him a smug look. “Obviously, but that’s because it’s _me_ , everyone looks pretty damned hard when I’m up there. I’m _spectacular_ ”.

Then he looks, really looks at Jordan, and sees the insecurity that he can’t quite hide, and takes pity on him.

“No reason you can’t be too, if you’re willing to put in some effort.”

“So you’ll teach me then?”

“After the honeymoon, I’ll see if you’re teachable.“ Peter qualifies. ”I have a distinct style, and not everyone finds it to their taste.”

“You mean you’re an asshole?’ Jordan asks, smiling again now.

“I’m a hardass. There’s a difference” Peter amends.

___________________________________________________________

Peter sent a cheque for five grand to the workman who first suggested he get on the pole, as a thank you. Credit where credit’s due after all, and it turned out to be a fantastic idea.

But because he’s Peter, he didn’t tell him why, he just sent it with a glossy shot of him riding the pole, and four free entry passes.  He trusts the guy will figure it out.

Peter loves to get up there at least once a week, and as Stiles terms it, ‘flaunt his sexy wolf ass.´

Stiles still loves to watch every time.

He’s keen to watch when Jordan arrives for lessons too, because that’s one pretty, pretty man right there, wearing spandex shorts and a tank top that says “ _I flexed and the sleeves fell off_ ”.

He might be staring a little too blatantly, because the next thing he knows, Peter is bundling him out the door, reminding him that he’s married and mated, and growling possessively.

Apparently it’s not _appropriate_ for him to watch when Jordan has lessons.

“No, rabbit” Peter tells him firmly, as he protests. 

“You don’t get to watch. I need Jordan focused on me, not on his potential stepson drooling in the corner” and OK, he may have a point there.

He still pouts until Peter promises him that if he’s good, he’ll dance _just for him_ later.  That’s enough to pacify him, because Peter is one hell of a dancer in public, but the strip routines he does for Stiles at home are something else again.  That pole was the best $169.95 they ever spent, in his opinion.

With Stiles sent packing, Peter and Jordan set to work.  Jordan’s told Noah that he’s taking a class at a local gym, and it’s not exactly a lie.

 Peter’s a terrible teacher, impatient and demanding, going through the motions once and then expecting nothing less than perfection. He’s Abby Lee Miller on testosterone and caffeine.

 Jordan seems like a nice guy, but he’s as bull headed as they come, persistent as all hell, and when he gets that stubborn gleam in his eye, he won’t back down from a challenge.

Oddly enough, they work perfectly together, although from the outside it looks and sounds like a disaster.  The bar staff cringe at what they hear coming from the stage while they pretend not to listen in.

Peter shouts ‘Do it better, dammit!”

Jordan shouts back “Damn well show me better then!”

Peter rolls his eyes and huffs, even as he flips up onto the pole again, explaining the maneuver as if speaking to a child. Jordan furrows his brow, runs it through in his head for a minute, then nails it.

‘Better, maestro?” he enquires sweetly.

Peter nods curtly. “Good enough. Now do it again. Do it fifteen times.”

And so the lesson goes. Each new move is an exercise in frustration, each one mastered is a victory.

Jordan doesn’t have Were strength, but he does have damn fine control of his abs, great upper body strength, and an ass you could bounce a coin off. He looks _good_ on that pole.

 By the end of the first three hour session, he can climb up to the top, swing around on his arms, and slide back down using his legs to grip, all in some semblance of a routine.

Peter thinks it’s fair progress.

“You’re an awful teacher, Hale” Jordan grins at Peter.

“The worst” Peter agrees. “Someone asked if I would run _classes_. For the _public_ ”. They both shudder at the thought.

“I don’t know who would leave the room crying first, you or the poor sucker that fell off their pole more than once” says Jordan.

“Oh, definitely them, I have no patience with people who won’t try. You though, you’re a stubborn bastard. I think we can work with that.”

They agree to three lessons a week.


	3. Mystery Diner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jordan continues to come and get shouted at by Peter three times a week, for the next month. The staff are simultaneously horrified and fascinated with the verbal volleys they hear. They can’t see what’s happening, so they have to put their own spin on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter just snuck in there, I swear. It's unintended plot, but I kinda like it. We're getting to the dancing soon, I promise!

Jordan continues to come and get shouted at by Peter three times a week, for the next month.

The staff are simultaneously horrified and fascinated with the verbal volleys they hear. They can’t see what’s happening, so they have to put their own spin on it.

They hear

_“Fuck sake, Parrish, get it all the way down, you’ve got inches to go yet!”_

_“It can’t go any further, unless you want me to tear something”_

_”Of course it can, hold it there and I’ll give it a push until you’re all the way down. See? Now stop your damn whimpering and get off the floor, I just stretched it out, that’s all, nothing's torn. Next time I expect you to go all the way down on your own”_

They hear

_“A roll of the hips, I said, not a thrust. There’s a distinct difference. Do I need to show you again?”_

_That’s fine, you’ve shown me enough times, now get your damn hands off my ass”._

They hear

_‘Lock your legs tighter or you’ll fall off the damn thing. I’m not explaining a hospital trip to my husband or your boyfriend. Tighter I said, I can see you slipping”_

_“Well I wouldn’t be slipping if you used less damn oil, would I? You could at least wipe this down after you get off it’_

They hear

_“Lace? Really Peter? Are you fucking kidding me?”_

_“Trust me on this. Your ass looks great in it”._

It’s great fodder for the rumor mill, as Peter tells Stiles one evening lying in bed.

“Your staff thinks I’m fucking Parrish against the poles”. He yawns as he says it, and snuggles in closer to his mate.

Stiles snorts. “Any reason why? Or just because they’re bored and they made it up?”

Peter explains “It’s  because I’ve barred everyone from the practice sessions, so all they know is that Parrish and I go into a locked room for three hours, sometimes there’s screaming, and when we come out we’re both sweaty and he’s normally limping’. He looks smug as he says it.

“Peter, why exactly is he screaming and limping? Or do I not want to know?”

Peter shrugs.  “It’s the splits. He can’t get all the way to the floor, so I give him that extra push down. Sometimes the stretch is a bit much, that’s all. He’s getting better though, he can nearly get there on his own now, and he’s stopped swearing so much when I make him do it.”

Stiles hums. “The staff do know that we’re mated right? That cheating’s physically not an option for us?’

“Do you know rabbit, I’m not sure if I ever bothered to tell them” Peter says.  “Did you want me to talk to them, clear up the confusion?”

“You know what? I don’t think I do”, Stiles muses.

 “It’s more interesting this way. I might ask a few pointed questions, then we can see who’s game to try and tell me you’re cheating, and who looks the other way.”

‘My mate’s a devious little shit. I knew there was a reason I loved you” Peter laughs.

Because some of the staff definitely weren’t happy when they heard that club had changed hands, even though it made no difference on a day to day basis. Peter and Stiles have heard one or two whispers that they didn’t quite like the tone of, so this is a perfect way to clean house.

 

The next evening, Stiles goes down to Jungle, knowing full well that Peter’s at home watching a documentary on Stonehenge. He goes to the bar, and asks “Hey, did Peter leave yet? He said he’d be home around seven, and it’s nine now. Is he still doing inventory?’

Stiles sees the look exchanged between the two staff. One of them gives him a pitying look, but the other one shrugs and says “Yeah man, he was here all day, you must have just missed him”.   Stiles asks “Are you sure he was here all day? I thought I saw him at the hotel earlier’.  The skip in the man’s heartbeat is a dead giveaway, but he’s too stupid to realise it as he carries on in his lie.  “Oh definitely, I waved to him like twenty minutes ago”.

The woman he’s working with is looking at him incredulously.

Interesting. Stiles turns his attention to her.

“Soooooooo” he draws out the word. “You know where he was going then? Because it wasn’t home. Seems like it never is these days” he adds wistfully.

 (Stiles is enjoying himself tremendously. It’s like starring in his very own episode of Mystery Diner, he thinks, even as he turns sad eyes on the pair.)

The man (Todd,maybe?)  carries on with his tried and true method of shrugging in response to everything, but he does offer this pearl of wisdom. “Hey man, you married a wolf, you know you can’t really trust them, right?’

The woman slaps him across the back of the head, outraged. “I’m so sorry about my brother, Mr Stilinski”, she starts out, “He’s always been a speciesist. And an asshole” she adds, with another slap to the head. “I honestly wish I could tell you where your husband is, but I haven’t seen him today”. She hesitates then, and Stiles waits. 

“I do know he’s been spending some time with Deputy Parrish though, so maybe check with him?” he can see her doubting the wisdom of saying anything as soon as the words leave her mouth, and he’s about to put her out of her misery when Asshole pipes up with “Yeah, real quality time if the way Parrish is walking when he leaves is anything to go by. I hear wolves have real stamina”.

 _Bingo_ thinks Stiles, as he turns to the man, and smiles, and slowly lets his fangs emerge, and his eyes turn gold. “You know, we really, really, do” he replies, and stands there smiling around his fangs as the man pales.

He grins toothily, and brightly tells Asshole “Hi there, I’m Stiles Stilinski-Hale, _owner_  of Jungle, husband and mate of Peter Stilinski –Hale. Haven’t you heard? I got bitten by the _Big Bad Werewolf_ on our honeymoon, and now I’m one too. So  stop lying to me about where my husband is, take your anti- werewolf bullshit elsewhere, and _fuck right off_. “

And then he snarls, just a little, for effect.

Asshole skitters off towards the exit, and Stiles lets him go. It’s been a while since he upset someone, he thinks, and he’s missed it.

He retracts his fangs then, turns to the woman, and tells her “Thanks for your honesty. I know that Peter and Jordan are working together on something; he’s not doing anything he shouldn’t. Mated wolves can’t cheat -little known fact, they’re physically incapable.  But I’m more interested in the fact that you didn’t try to cover for him. Or lie to me. Come see me in the office after you help your asshole brother pack his things”.

Turns out that the woman, Ami, is actually experienced in management and accounts – the bar job’s a stopgap. She’s fairly new to town, and has been stuck staying with her idiot brother. She’s familiar with the book keeping system Jungle uses, and has already picked up a good working knowledge of the club’s day to day operations.

Stiles promptly promotes her, on the condition that she teach him what he needs to know about running the place.  He knows that the club is in good hands, but he’s always been a research nerd, and he wants to know stuff, just in case.

Ami’s new title is **Sidekick**. He prints it out on a labelmaker and adds it to her badge and everything. She looks dubious, but she tells him she can live with it when he tells her how much she’ll be earning.  He also makes a phone call and books her into the Beacon Hills Hotel, all expenses paid, for the next month, to give her time to find her own place.

Ami doesn’t cry, she’s not wired that way, but she does start giggling in shock.

Stiles calls Peter to tell him what’s happened, and Peter tells him he’s very proud of his detective skills, and that he owns the club and can hire who he wants, and can he please go now because the documentary’s just getting to the good bit.

______________________________________________________

Jordan’s making good progress, apart from the damn splits.

Noah comments that whatever the class is he’s doing, he should keep going because damn, he’s looking ripped. Jordan blushes, as Noah settles back between his spread thighs and resumes sucking him off. He’s still savoring the comment later, when he’s biting tiny marks into Noah’s collarbone as he rocks back gently on the cock that’s deep in his ass. He thinks about how Noah’s going to react to seeing him dance, and rocks harder, grinning.

Finaly, Stiles gets a text one Friday from Peter, saying simply “He’s ready. Bring the old man tonight”.

He happily dials the Sheriff.

“Hey Pops, busy tonight?”

Noah sighs “Nope, Jordan’s going to the gym again tonight, so it’s just me. Why, son?”

Stiles aims for casual. “Peter’s got some new thing going on at the club, thought we might like it, and we haven’t caught up for a few weeks, so you wanna come out? We won’t make it late”.

He can hear Noah considering the idea, and crosses his fingers. Finally, his Dad agrees to meet him there later that night.

Stiles sends a message to Peter telling him it’s all go, and one to Jordan wishing him luck.


	4. Showtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is keen to see Jordan dance. He gets a little more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta Dah! Finally, the single scene that turned into six chapters of plot and extra porn is here, and I hear you all saying "About goddam time!"  
> Hope it lives up to the hype.

When they get to the club ( _His_ club, and that still gives Stiles a tiny thrill each time he thinks about it) he sets them up at a table near the stage, and Noah doesn’t question it, because he knows that Stiles enjoys watching the dancers, and he’s not exactly averse to some eye candy.

They grab some drinks and shoot the breeze and Peter comes out and joins them for a while.

Stiles tells his Dad that he did OK with his second full moon earlier in the week, that they ran and ‘did some things’ to ease the tension, and he was able to stay in control. Noah doesn’t ask exactly what those ‘things’ were, and Stiles doesn’t offer to tell him. Noah is fairly certain they’re not talking about yoga and a cup of chamomile tea.

Peter gets a few people coming over and asking if he’ll be on stage later, he just winks and tells them to wait and see. One or two ask for selfies or autographs, and he shrugs and obliges. He manages to deflect a couple of pats that are aimed at his ass. 

Stiles thinks that it’s really a good thing he’s not the jealous type.

A couple of beers in, and his Dad’s relaxed and having fun, although he looks a bit wistful as he comments that it’s a shame Jordan isn’t here.

“He’s spending all his time at the damn gym, and it’s working for him, and I’m glad, but I’d really like to see a lot more of him.”

Stiles bites down on the inside of his cheek.

The lights go down and the music fades out, and the regulars know that’s their cue to turn their attention to the stage. Once people have seen that Peter’s in the building, they know he’ll probably be up there, so there’s a low buzz of excitement.

“What’s the new act, son?’ Noah asks, and Stiles shrugs, replying “Not entirely sure, you know Peter, likes to keep it interesting”.

A small cheer goes up from the crowd when they see movement on the darkened stage.  A funky electro pop guitar beat starts and the sounds of Filthy Gorgeous by Scissor Sisters thrums through the club as a spotlight hits Peter center stage.

Noah’s face breaks into a smile at the familiar bass line. “Scissor Sisters! Jordan loves this“ he mouths to Stiles.

Peter’s a crowd pleaser as he flips and glides and swings his way through the number, his smirk firmly in place. He goes all out, actually licking the pole at one stage, and the whole thing is just flat out sex disguised as dancing. Stiles licks his lips. His father tells him he looks like a love-sick calf. Stiles happily agrees. Those leather pants are _very_ flattering, Stiles thinks, as the number ends with Peter facing away from the audience, bent over, legs apart, gripping his ass.  After the song finishes, he slips offstage faster than usual. 

Stiles can feel Peter’s excitement through their bond – no- not excitement, anticipation; and he wonders what the hell his husband’s up to.

But it’s a momentary distraction – he knows Jordan will be up next, Peter had told him he’d dance first to warm up the crowd,  so it looks like everything’s on track.

It’s only a minute or two before he hears Peter’s voice through the PA.

“The next act’s a little special. This one’s for you Noah”.

Noah looks up, surprised. Stiles grins and does jazz hands at him, saying ‘Surprise!”

At the same time as the distinctive opening thumpa, thumpa, thumpa, thumpa, of the music starts, twin spotlights hit the stage.

 _Twin_ spotlights. What the fuck?

 

Stiles freezes when he looks at the stage, because there, wearing identical stripper cop uniforms, wearing identical mirrored aviators, and wearing identical shiteating grins, like a pair of supremely attractive devils, are Peter and Jordan.

Their hands are on their hips, and they’re thrusting obscenely, perfectly in time with the music.

The strong beat continues, and the lyrics kick in.

“ _Me with the floor show, kickin' with your torso_  
Boys getting high and the girls even more so  
Wave your hands if you're not with the man”

 _Can I kick it?”_ asks Robbie Williams.

Yes, yes they can.

Their hips are swaying in perfect sync as they approach the poles, grab on, and hoist themselves up, each a mirror image of the other.

Stiles chokes on his drink – he knew Peter was up to something, that glorious devious man.

He hears a high pitched whining coming from Noah.

He doesn’t even notice he’s making the same noise.

Peter and Jordan climb to the top, throw their heads back, and then start rolling their crotch against the metal in a hypnotic rhythm, grinding  in a manner that’s pure porn, and the flex and roll of their bodies is clearly visible through the oh so tight costumes.

As they hit the chorus, they start spinning at the same time, releasing their hands from the pole and opening the front of their shirts.  They both do some kind of maneuver that’s too complex to follow, and suddenly they’re facing out from the pole, legs hooked behind them, shirts pulled off and exquisite sculpted arms spread wide in front of them, like a pair of particularly fuckable Peter Pans.

Their muscled torsos are on full display, and Stiles is fairly certain there’s oil involved, because nobody’s chest gleams like that naturally. Jordan is tanned and hairless, sleek and sexy.  Peter has a more primal quality, a light covering of dark hair on his chest, the damned nipple rings, and carefully groomed stubble. Night and day, light and dark, they complement each other perfectly.

Stiles actually feels faint for a minute.

Robbie sings about how they’re _making him feel so nice_. Stiles can relate.

“Those sneaky bastards” breathes Noah, but he’s absolutely glowing with excitement and pride, and possibly something darker, as he watches Jordan match Peter move for move, twist for twist, thrust for thrust. He's the one licking his lips now.

It’s a beautifully filthy midair ballet, and the crowd is transfixed by the sight of the two men sliding their legs up and up and up, until they’re doing the splits against the pole. Then the leg comes down and down and down, and they spend some time with both legs round the pole, holding on with one hand, and humping the metal in perfect unison.

They swing their legs outwards, gathering speed as they fly around in time with the music. Suddenly, they’re both airborne, and somehow they’ve executed a perfect backflip off the pole and both landed on their feet in a dismount worthy of an Olympic Gymnast.

The crowd loves it, but it’s not over yet.

They jump off the stage and head with a cocky strut straight for their men. They both slide onto their partner’s lap and thrust and grind a little, before pulling them in for a filthy possessive kiss. (It’s not quite a lap dance, but it lives on the same street as a lap dance, and sometimes collects its mail.)

And then they’re gone, back on stage, back up the pole. Then spin some more, slide down off the poles and go straight down into the splits, earning them a gasp from the audience. They bounce back up without missing a beat, and then finish up the number by ripping off of the tight police pants.

Underneath, both of them are wearing nothing but black lace boyleg panties.

The room erupts into a cacophony of cheers and whistles.

They turn and strut off stage with their arms raised in triumph, and Stiles and Noah are left wide eyed and groaning. They’re too turned on to be embarrassed, both squirming in their seats, palming their dicks, speechless.

 

A stunned Noah speaks first. “Jesus Christ on a cracker, son”.

 

“Uh huh” is all Stiles can manage in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't choose the music, the music chose me. or more accurately, Peter chose for me.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TlO4FWrVE2I&oref=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DTlO4FWrVE2I&has_verified=1 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnO3nijfYmU


	5. Peter Stilinski-Hale, Idiot extraordinaire.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go a little pear shaped after the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneaky bonus chapter.

There’s a moment where they’re both still, father and son, and if you were to take a photo at that moment, you would see identical expressions of lust and want on their faces.

 But it’s only a moment.

Then they both speak at once , Noah choking out “Where?-“ just as Stiles grabs his hand and tells him “This way-“ and the  they’re pressing their way through the crowd, into the back rooms of the club, to the  dressing rooms. Stiles’ eyes are flashing and his claws are coming out, and he doesn’t even care, because holy fuck. His Dad is having trouble keeping up with his new speed, but they don’t have far to go, and soon enough he’s at the dressing room door, following Stiles in.

Jordan’s not there.

Peter is, leaning against the wardrobe door, arms folded, wearing his robe and a smirk.

He nods towards the back exit, telling Noah, “He’s outside, in the taxi. Enjoy your evening”.

Noah glances at the door, hesitates, and then pulls Peter into a full body hug, telling him “I love you more than my own son right now. Sorry, Stiles” he adds, glancing at him.

 Peter just smirks, then pushes Noah towards the exit and tells him “Go get your boy, Sheriff. He has _plans_ ”.

Noah’s gone in a flash.

Stiles slowly says “Sooo….Jordan has plans?  -Wait, I really don’t want to know “

“I think you can guess, rabbit”, Peter grins, slow and filthy, “Since your plans are probably _exactly_ the same. Does that mean you liked the show?”

“ _Panties,_ Fuck Peter, I can’t even…”Stiles begins, but then he gives up, words fail him, and he drags Peter into his lap, sliding his hand over the back of said panties as he kisses Peter senseless. Peter doesn’t object, but he doesn’t let it go any further, either, keeping them seated and pressed together, making out but nothing more.

Stiles huffs in frustration.

Peter casually gets up and drops his robe, making Stiles’ breath hitch at the sight of his hard cock peeking out the top of the lace. He strips the lacy underthings off and drops them in Stile’s lap.

Stiles makes a small noise.

And then he opens the wardrobe, and starts putting on normal underwear.

Stiles objects immediately. “Less clothes Peter, not more” even as he tries to get them back off his husband.

Peter dodges him easily, saying “Sorry sweetheart, I would….but I’m needed back on stage. Are you coming to watch or are you going to wait back here?”

And he shimmies into a skin tight wife beater and tight stretch pants, and strides out onto the stage, just as the strains of “Bad to the Bone” start to filter through.

Stiles is genuinely torn. He doesn’t know if he can watch Peter dance again without wolfing out or coming in his jeans, but he really doesn’t want to miss it, either.

With a groan, he trails out to watch, telling himself that Peter is so paying for this later. 

 

By the time he gets there, Peter’s already lost the wife beater, shredded on his claws from the look of it. He’s posing so the bulge of his muscles is obvious, flexing his back, lifting his chin so his thick neck is on display. He’s halfway up the pole, head hanging down, and as the guitars kick in to the chorus, he slowly, slowly, starts to lift himself up, making his abs ripple and gleam. He’s pulled himself up level with the ground using only his abs, and then he lifts his head up further and stretches his arms out to grasp the metal. It looks phenomenal, and Stiles licks his lips. His eyes are shining gold now, and he doesn’t even both to try and control them. He’s focused on Peter, on where he’s pulled himself up and is holding his body out sideways. He’s not spinning and twisting this time, he’s just slowly moving from position to position in one smooth motion. It’s poetry. When he ends up on the top of the pole, holding himself up vertically on one arm, the crowd is screaming.  Then he flips gracefully down onto the pole and slithers his way down, stopping half way and grinding against the shaft. As the end of the song approaches he spins and flips off, and in keeping with the theme, lets himself shift, fangs and claws out, eyes flashing, and growls just enough to be sexy, as he shreds the stretch pants.

It’s a hit.

People are cheering and whistling, and some dumbass who doesn’t know any better slaps Peter’s ass as he’s leaving the stage _and he’s touching Stiles’ mate._

Stiles sees red, and is over there before the guy can blink, and he’s holding him up by the throat, roaring out “ ** _Mine_**!” before dropping him to the floor, scooping Peter up like a blushing bride, and storming out of there, through the front doors, and onto the street.

He stands there in the car park, chest heaving, Peter still held firmly against him, and fights for his control. Peter is making soothing noises, running his hands over him, reassuring him “I’m yours, rabbit, always yours” as Stiles slowly, slowly comes down from the adrenaline rush.

He huffs out a shaky breath as he puts Peter down, still running his hand all over his mate’s body to reassure himself that Peter’s OK.

“I’m fine, rabbit, honestly, but how about we go inside where there are clothes” he coos, because standing in a public car park in boxer briefs is not ideal.

Stiles nods even as he scents Peter, snuggling up to his chest and walking them backwards to the side doors where they can get in without going through the crowds.

“OK, I see now why I can’t get on the pole” Stiles huffs out. “Is this how you felt? Wolf thing?”

“Wolf thing” Peter agrees. ‘Probably a combination of watching me with someone else on stage, and then a stranger touching your mate. Plus, we’re only days past the full moon, remember”.

Stiles continues to cling like a limpet, breathing in Peter’s scent and muttering to himself about dumbass wolves who do shit like this when it’s close to the full moon, doesn’t Peter own a damn calendar, and don’t look at him, he’s new at this, how the hell is he meant to keep track, and oh god, is this how women feel having to count the days, because that must really suck, but he really really liked the double dance number, he does love him some Robbie and some stripper cops, and please can Peter bring the uniform home? On and on he rambles, but his heart rate is slowing, and Peter can feel him calming through the bond, so he just hmms and uh-huhs along, until they’re safely locked in the office and curled up on the day bed.

Stiles lifts his head from Peter’s chest and asks “So real talk, was that a wolf-wolf thing, or a spark-wolf thing?”

Peter cocks his head, considering. “This time, I think it’s actually wolf-wolf. As I said, combination of moon, moron who touched me, and my irresistible charm. “

Stiles snorts. “Glad to see your ego’s intact there, husband”. Then he heaves a sigh, saying, “Man, I just wanted to grab you after that dance with Jordan and get you to bang me like screen door in a hurricane, but the moment’s kinda passed now, and I just want to rub up against you and make you smell like me.”  

Then he asks “why the hell would you line up a third number after that one?”

Peter looks sheepish.

“Wantedtoimpressyou” he mumbles.

Stiles stares at him, hard.

“I didn’t want you thinking about Parrish, when we went home” he admits. “I thought I’d do one last number and you’d be desperate for me”.

Even as the words leave his mouth, he's aware how ridiculous it sounds, and yeah, maybe it wasn't his best idea.

“That is without a doubt the _dumbest_ thing I’ve ever heard. Why would I ever be thinking of anyone but you? I mean, have you _seen_ you?I'm married to a giant idiot” Stiles grumbles.

“I’m so annoyed right now, you don’t even know. And I’m not getting any action because of the stupid full moon and my stupid jealous wolf. I blame you, Peter, and I expect you to make it up to me somehow. Probably with blow jobs or something”.

Peter brings his head up with a finger under his chin, and whispers into his ear, in a tone that holds a wealth of promise “….well, _you_ could bang _me_ …..”

Stiles’ wolf perks up at that thought, and his cock follows right along with it.

“Home, not here” he decides. “Need to get comfy, this could take a while”

Peter nips at the shell of his ear as he tells him “Counting on it, rabbit. Want you slow and deep tonight” and oh, now Stiles’ body is really on board, his erection back in full force from earlier. Peter’s still in nothing but his underwear, and Stiles’ wolf is pushing him to do something, _anything_ , to put his mark on his mate.

 He truly blames the wolf for what he does next. He doesn’t even think, just presses Peter flat on the bed, unbuttons his jeans, quickly drags his dick out, and strokes himself until he’s coming all over his husband’s abs and chest. And then he starts rubbing it into Peter’s skin, groaning as he does so. Peter’s hand snaps out and grabs him by the wrist. He realises what he’s doing, and starts to apologise, but then Peter lifts his hand to his mouth and starts to lick it, cleaning off the mess with a gleam in his eye. He whispers “Wolf thing, rabbit” and then starts to suckle on Stiles’ fingertips.

Stiles feels Peter’s desire flaming through the mate bond, so he guesses he’s not too upset, but still. “I don’t even know what the hell that was, just needed to mark you as mine, won’t do it again, I promise”.

Peter drags him down for a kiss, smearing the mess between them, staining Stiles’ clothes with his release. “I wouldn’t mind if you did, darling” he murmurs, and he sounds faintly amused. “My wolf liked it as much as yours. Now let’s go home and you can ravage me properly. If you’re really lucky, I’ll let you try out that shiny new knot of yours”.

All the breath leaves Stiles’ body at the thought, because yeah, he’s got a knot now, but he didn’t think he’d ever get to use it. If Peter’s offering though….


	6. After Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles follows his instincts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, I hear you ask? Why not, I say.

The drive from the club to the apartment is seven and a half minutes long, but if seems to take hours.  The walk up the stairs is endless. It takes an eternity to fit the key in the lock, but that could be because neither of them are looking at what they’re doing.

They’re all hands and mouths as they finally get through the door, Stiles crowding Peter up against the wall and sucking and biting at the mating mark on Peter’s neck. He feels him shudder at the sensation, so he does it some more.

Peter’s hands are sliding up the back of his shirt, and then it's lifted off him. They stand there, bare chests pressed together, still sticky with oil and drying come, kissing and biting and licking, but not rushing.

Peter said slow and deep, and that’s what he’s going to get.

They finally move from the wall when Peter presses gently against Stiles chest, and asks him “Shall we ruin that other cheap sofa, or do you want the bed?”

 Stiles considers. “If it’s long and slow, I want the bed, but if I shift, I’d sooner wreck the couch. I think I’ll need to shift if I want to knot, but then again, who the hell knows?’

Peter waggles his eyebrows and kisses down Stiles’ jaw and neck as he smirks, “finding out is half the fun”.

“You’re really OK with this? It won’t upset your Alpha, letting me knot you? Like some weird wolf power thing?’ Stiles queries.

“Nope” Peter states. “My wolf will do what I damn well say.”

And then he drops to his knees and starts undoing Stiles’ jeans, and his mouth is there, sucking and licking at Stiles through the fabric of his boxers, and talking time is apparently over.

After Peter teases him for approximately a thousand years with his mouth, they finally, finally move. The last of their clothing is shed on the walk to the couch – Peter only has to drop his robe and his boxers, after all.

They curl up around each other, taking their time, touching each other, and hands slide gently around dicks, and Stiles slips one hand down Peter’s back and onto his ass, massaging slowly as he drags his husband to lie on top of him. He’s nuzzling and scenting, hands moving in slow circles, and their bodies rub against each other in a slow dance.  Peter reaches over and grabs the lube, and he’s slicking up his own fingers.

“Let me, rabbit” he purrs as he goes up onto his knees, reaches behind himself, and starts massaging his fingers in and around his hole, and that’s something he never thought he’d see, but hot damn, thinks Stiles.

Peter has his head back and his eyes closed, a small smile playing on his lips as he rocks his body back. Stiles can’t see what his hands are doing, but the tiny noises Peter is making tells him it must be something good.  The hand comes back into view, more lube is added, and the show goes on.

Stiles reaches his hands forwards, running them up and down Peter’s thick thighs to start with, and then moving then onto his cock. He can’t really get any kind of speed, he’s too distracted, so it’s more just random touches and tugs. Peter’s rocking back harder now, humming and twisting his hips, head still thrown back.

Stiles gives up on touching and just props himself up on his elbows so he can see better, and leans forwards a little to kiss up and down the lovely planes of chest muscle that are right there for the taking.

“My beautiful wolf” he whispers, because Peter really is breathtaking at the moment. His breath is coming in short pants now as he works himself back onto his fingers. His hair is messy, his gorgeous blue eyes are shining, and his chest still gleams from the oil he used at the club. The thick corded muscles in that damned neck are strained and Stiles can see where his pulse point is throbbing. He leans forward and latches onto it, sucking hard.

Peter moans loudly, and removing his fingers, wraps his arms around Stiles and holds him in place, pressing his face into the spot in a silent plea for more. Stiles obliges, and bites down.

Peter swears then, and suddenly rolls them, so that Stiles is above him, and he looks up at him and tilts a brow, saying “Ready?”

Stiles is beyond ready. 

“Like this?”

Peter confirms that _like this_ is just fine by spreading his legs wide and pulling Stiles forwards into the space he’s created. His still slick hand is on Stiles’ shaft, then, spreading more lube, and then guiding the head down between his legs.

Stiles feels how open Peter is, how his head snugs so nicely into the gap there, and with a slow push forwards he feels himself squeeze in. It’s tight, there’s no doubt, but Peter places his hands on his ass and pulls him further forwards,  until he’s all the way , and he can feel Peter’s muscles twitching around his throbbing length.

He stills then, waiting, catching his breath even as Peter catches his. 

“You really do have a glorious cock, Stiles, but it’s so damn big” Peter groans out.

Stiles starts to pull out then, but Peter holds him in place, saying “I never said I didn’t _like_ it. Just….remind me to stretch a little more next time”.

Stiles makes the tiniest of movements with his hips then, testing. Peter tenses, then relaxes. Stiles does it again, and this time Peter presses back against him, his mouth opening in a small sigh. He takes that as a sign to keep moving, and slides the first inch out, and then back in, slow, steady, slick.

He can feel that Peter’s still not as relaxed as he’d like, so he sits back on his heels and takes Peter’s length in hand, applying lube to his hand first. He starts to stroke firmly, telling Peter “Need you relaxed, going to take the edge off”, in an echo of their first time together. Peter moans and sighs as his strokes pick up speed, and soon his hips are rocking up into Stile’s hand as he fucks into his fist.  Stiles adds a twist at the head, and Peter comes suddenly, his hole clenching tightly, so tightly that it takes Stile’s breath away for a moment.

“Holy mother of God, Peter, fuck that’s tight” he gasps.

Peter’s equally breathless as he replies “You should feel it from here, sweetheart”. 

They take another moment then, as Peter relaxes again, and Stiles can feel the difference now that he’s come, Peter’s muscles are more pliant, there’s a little more give, and he’s able to move more freely.

He sets a steady pace, a firm slide in and out, in and out, closing his eyes to just enjoy the sensation. They really don’t do this often, and he savors it when they do. Now that he has better control of his wolf, he’s confident he won’t shift unexpectedly, so he can relax and just let himself feel.

Peter’s squirming under him, and when he changes his angle a little, the yelp he hears tells him he’s hit his target. It’s confirmed when Peter growls out “More of that, rabbit” and rocks his hips up. Stiles is happy to comply, pressing in a little more firmly and hitting that spot, causing Peter to let out small grunts at the stimulation. The increase in speed and pressure has Stiles getting close as well, so he slows down a little, not wanting to rush.

 He tells Peter “ I’m getting close -do I need to shift  first, or just let go?”

Peter opens his eyes and comes back from chasing his own pleasure, and replies “Go deep, rabbit. Press in as hard and as far as you can, and then follow your instincts.”

Stiles thinks that sounds like a great idea, so he starts pressing forwards with more force behind each thrust, driving the very base of his cock as far forwards as he can. It feels strange at first, but then it feels good, and Peter’s making all these happy noises, and with each press forward it feels like he’s more sensitive, and his nerves are tingling, and his balls are tingling, and there’s a slight thickening at the base, but he needs to shift.

He can’t hold back, and Peter said _follow your instincts,_ so he does, and shifts, fangs dropping, claws coming out, eyes golden,  and knot suddenly and gloriously _there_ , large and round and plump, nestled against the base of his cock.

Peter’s making more of those noises, and there are words in there somewhere, words like ‘more’ and ‘fuck’ and ‘yes’ and they’re music to Stiles’ ears as he continues to pound into Peter, slow and deep forgotten now.

The couch was a good choice, because it has deep gouges from his claws now, where he’s holding on as he chases his release.  He starts to growl low in his throat as he feels his knot start to tighten up. He knows he’s close, and he  presses forwards harder now, feeling the muscle opening around him as he gets part way in, then a little further the next time, and a little further. 

He can hear Peter making a pained noise as he drives in deep, and at the same time he feels a stretching of muscle as the body beneath him gives up all resistance to the demands placed on it. The knot slams in and locks into place.

Stiles howls as he starts to come, unable to hold back. Peter joins in, as they’re both overwhelmed by sensation.

It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. The sheer intensity of the sensation has him gasping, drawing in great shaky breaths, even as he thrusts his hips forward and continues to come, great streams of liquid pumping into his husband without stopping. Stiles looks down to see Peter panting, and as his knot keeps pressing on Peter’s prostate, he comes again without warning. His hips buck up as he comes, causing Peter to gasp, wincing as the knot pulls on his rim. Stiles brackets him with his body, but can offer him no comfort, he’s barely holding himself together as it is. The knot continues to pulse, and continues to feel amazing. It’s almost frightening how good it is.

There are arms wrapping around his neck as Peter holds onto him, drawing him closer, nuzzling his neck, still making happy sounds.

It takes long minutes for the knot to go down, and they spend the time touching and kissing, and whispering assurances to each other.

Stiles feels like he’s been hit by a truck. Peter looks like it.

The couch now has rips in the fabric, and a large gooey puddle in the center. It’s beyond saving.

When Stiles is finally able to slip out, Peter’s ass is wrecked, to put it mildly. It has come and lube trickling out in a steady stream, it’s red and swollen around the rim, and it’s twitching as it tries and fails to close. Stiles looks down at the sight, and feels slightly guilty, but only slightly. Because what he’s getting through the bond is a sense of deep satisfaction rolling off Peter.

 “How are you doing Wolfman? Was it too much?’ he asks tenderly, stroking Peter’s hair as they both start to drift off.

“Not too much, but it was close” Peter admits. ”Was good though, rabbit. I liked it”.

“Didn’t hurt you though?” Stiles checks in, just to be sure.

“It was the _good_ hurt, the kind we like, sweetheart” Peter assures him.

 “Wrecked this couch now” Stiles slurs, as post-knot exhaustion starts to set in.

 “And we need a shower, before we stick together” hums Peter.

Stiles doesn’t respond -  he’s passed out.

Peter gets up gingerly, and taking tiny steps, walks slowly and ever so carefully to the shower. He runs the water and steps in, groaning. His ass is throbbing, and it’s dripping, and it makes him wonder how the hell Stiles ever coped with doing this without wolf healing.

He has a new level of appreciation for his mate.

As he stands under the water, he can feel his body starting to recover, and heaves a quiet sigh of relief.

He doesn’t bottom often, but he does enjoy the sensation and the stretch while it lasts.

The burn he got from knotting took him right to the edge of too much, but it also felt fantastic when he came.

He’d do it again, he thinks.

 

As a special occasion thing.

 

Like Christmas, maybe.

 


	7. In which unexpected things happen and the author has no control.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noah likes the act. He likes it a lot. Things happen.

Noah opens the back door of the taxi and slides inside, to where Jordan is waiting for him. He gives his address to the driver, and then turns to look at his boyfriend. His wonderful, devious, inappropriate, sexy partner.

Who he now has to keep his hands off till they get home, because damned if he’s going to start anything if he can’t finish it.

He extends a hand and places it on top of Jordan’s, stroking softly. He doesn’t say anything for a moment.

Jordan smiles at him shyly, and says “…um…surprise?”

Noah schools his face into something pretending to resemble a serious expression, and says “Deputy Parrish, we are going to have a long conversation about the Beacon Hills Police Department policy of not taking on secondary employment.”

Jordan looks at him, confused, because this was not what he’d expected. 

Noah continues “Because I can tell you now, if Peter doesn’t offer you a regular spot on stage after that performance, he’s insane. That was hotter than anything I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot. ”

Jordan has the sweetest damn blush, thinks Noah, as he watches the tips of his ears go pink.

“As your Sheriff, I have to insist you turn the offer down, due to concerns about appropriate behavior for an officer of the law.”

 And here his voice turns husky. “And as your partner, I have to insist that you dance only for me”.

His use of the word partner lights a small warm flame in Jordan’s chest. It implies a level of permanence, and he likes it.

The taxi has stopped, and they pay and scramble out, arms around each other as they head in the front door.

The sheriff has his young lover pressed against the wall the moment they’re inside, hand round the back of his head and pulling him in possessively for a kiss. Jordan responds eagerly, pressing his body forward so that Noah can feel his erection through the sweats he’s wearing. 

“I meant it” the Sheriff growls out “You can only dance for me, Jordy, too damn hot to share”.

Jordan grins, and asks “So you liked it then?”

Noah groans against his neck.  “Came damned close to embarrassing myself in public, so hell yes. Whose idea was the lace? Wait, let me guess, Peter.”

Jordan nods. “Wasn’t sure if you’d like it, but Peter Hale does what he wants”.

Noah’s hand slips inside his sweats now, and finds the panties still there. He sucks in a breath. He slides a finger down the back of the lace and runs it around the waist, humming his appreciation, and presses his hips forwards so that Jordan can feel exactly how much he liked it.

“I need to see you in these, all laid out and looking pretty for me “Noah demands. “Bed. Now”

Jordan slips out from under him and races towards the bedroom, with Noah in hot pursuit. By the time Noah gets there, Jordan has shucked off his clothing, leaving on only the stretched lace, which is struggling to contain his sizable erection.  Noah’s also shed his clothing as he goes, leaving his naked body on display.

Jordan looks his fill appreciatively. Noah is older, it’s true, but he’s fit, and he has a rugged charm that makes Jordan go weak at the knees. His hands are broad and strong, and his fingers are clever, and made for sin. His thighs alone are something he could look at for hours, long and thick and solid The muscles roll as he stalks forwards toward Jordan with a hungry look in his eye _._  Between the gorgeous thighs stands his erection, thick and full and huge, and just looking at it makes Jordan’s mouth water.

He’s laying on the bed as requested, one arm back over his head,  legs spread slightly, posing in a way he knows makes him look good, showcasing the black underwear. He’s been unsure when Peter had suggested it, but now he makes a mental note to send the man a gift basket.

He’s shaken out of his musings when he feels hands around his ankles, dragging him down to the edge of the bed. Noah pulls his legs wide and stands in the gap between them, running his hands over Jordan’s bulging crotch. A shiver runs down Jordan’s spine at being manhandled. It’s one of his favorite things.

“Fuck, Jordan, you really don’t know what you do to me, do you?” Noah murmurs, his hands stroking and massaging as he speaks. “So lucky to have you. I feel bad sometimes, because I get all this, and you get a middle aged sheriff with crow’s feet. You deserve someone young and pretty”

They’ve skirted around the edges of this before – Noah thinks he’s too old, and that Jordan will tire of him. Jordan thinks he’s never been happier, and doesn’t have plans to go anywhere,not ever, if he has a say in the matter.

 Jordan can see where this is going, and he’s not having any of it.

He pulls himself up to a sitting position then, and puts his hands on Noah’s shoulders. “I don’t _want_ young and pretty, Noah. What I _want_ is you _”_ he replies. “What I _want_ , is a damn fine man, who’s not freaked out by the fact I’m not quite human, and  who’s smart as they come.What I _want_ is a man who’s sexy as all hell, and who doesn’t ask a single question when I suddenly start going out three times a week to God knows where, because he trusts me. What I _want_ is a man who doesn’t care that his son is married to a werewolf older than him, because he can see that he’s happy. And what I _want_ is those thighs, and that cock, and those big, clever hands, and for you to love me as much as I love you. I want _you,_ Noah, and I couldn’t be happier that I’ve got you.”

He leans forwards and kisses Noah gently, and then he pulls away.

Nobody’s more surprised than him when he opens his mouth and says “Marry me?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows that he means it; he’d happily spend forever with this man. He hopes to God Noah feels the same.

Noah takes a moment to draw in a breath, and then asks “Seriously? Why?”

And Jordan doesn’t know if he means ‘Why would I want to marry you’ or ‘Why mess up what we have’ or ‘Why would I remarry?’

And so he stays silent, waiting for a clue.

“I mean, what we have is great, but why would you want to tie yourself to me? I want to say yes, but you’re young, and I’m….not. I’d be robbing you of your future. I’d be taking advantage. “

Jordan snorts, then.

“Noah, I spent six months trying to seduce you before you even got a clue I was interested. I had to practically strip at the public pool to get you into bed. I regularly beg you to fuck me till I scream, but you always stop and ask me if I’m sure. Nothing makes me happier than you stealth fucking me in the morning, but you made sure you had a green light before you’d do it. Tell me where any of that sounds like I’m being taken advantage of? If anything, it’s the other way around. I’m in love with you, Stilinski. Just accept it, and say yes”.

Noah’s mouth opens and closes a few times. He starts to speak, then stops, then starts again.

“You’re serious’ he states. “You love me. You want to marry me”

“Serious as a heart attack. Now say yes, I’m starting to worry”

“Hell yes” breathes out Noah, and his eyes are sparkling, his face joyful.

Jordan stands then, and pulls Noah into a proper embrace, all thought of sex forgotten for now. They hold each other as they both process what just happened.

‘We’re getting married” Jordan says, something like awe in his voice.

“Seems like it” Noah agrees, smiling widely.

And then, on the spur of the moment, and because they’re still both practically naked, he slips his hands down the back of Jordan’s panties and rasps out “There’s just one thing. I never went down on one knee. ” As he speaks, he slides the lace down _just_ far enough, and drops to his knees, and takes Jordan’s neglected cock in his mouth, gently licking and sucking until the other man’s arousal is back in full force.

Jordan groans, and starts to rock forwards with his hands in Noah’s hair. Noah’s good at this. He knows exactly what to do to make his ~~lover~~  fiancé come apart, and he goes to work in earnest, dragging the flat of his tongue up the underside of Jordan’s shaft, cupping his balls in both hands and massaging them, relaxing his throat so that he can fit more in. Jordan’s thrusting his hips forwards now, making little noises of pleasure, tugging lightly on his hair, and Noah hums at that, enjoying the slight sting.

 Jordan looks down and watches as his cock slides in and out of Noah’s mouth, his lips stretched and pink around him, and the sight has him pressing in harder, faster. Noah just takes it all, and his tongue is doing things that should be illegal, but that’s not what tips Jordan over the edge. It’s when Noah slips one hand back and brushes it ever so softly over his hole, a single feather light touch, that he’s done.

He throws his head back and gasps as he comes, hot down the sheriff’s throat, no time to even warn him beforehand. Noah simply sucks harder, swallowing everything down, then gently licking and nuzzling until it’s too much to bear and Jordan jerks away from the touch, panting.

Noah looks smug as he slides the panties the rest of the way down Jordan’s legs and throws them to the side, before standing again and moving them onto the bed gently.

Jordan’s eyes are still closed, and he’s breathing heavily.

“Nnnngh” he gets out.

“What was that? Want more?’ Asks the sheriff, and the corners of his eyes crinkle adorably as he smiles, and his expression is pure mischief.

Noah knows that Jordan tends to lose his words at times like this.  He doesn’t really expect a reply.

He rolls him onto his front and slides a hand down the crease of his ass. His broad fingers continue to brush whisper soft across Jordan’s pucker, just touching and teasing.

“Please” Jordan breathes out. “Want it”.

Noah obliges by grabbing the lube that they keep nearby, and drizzling the cool liquid straight onto Jordan’s ass, heedless of the mess as he spreads it around with the palms of his hands, dipping his fingers into his crack, sliding some down his taint, getting it everywhere. He slides one well lubed finger inside, and holds it there for a moment, before starting a slow in and out rhythm. Jordan wiggles his ass back in a clear invitation and slurs out “More?”

Noah happily adds a second and third finger in quick succession, just how he knows his boy likes, twisting and stretching, brushing his prostate, enjoying the little twitches and whines that earns him. It’s not long before Jordan is rocking insistently back onto his fingers, whimpering. Noah gets the message, so he slowly withdraws his hand, making calming noises, telling Jordan soon, baby, soon.

He slides his cock through the mess of lube until it’s good and slick, and presses in. Noah’s sheer size means that no matter how much prep they do, it’s always a tight fit.

They don’t much care. Jordan loves to feel the stretch. Noah loves to feel the tight squeeze.

He eases in and out gently for the first few strokes, but then Jordan manages to speak, saying simply “Hard”.

Noah’s always been good at following directions.

He slams in repeatedly, grunting with each thrust, grinding forwards as he bottoms out so he’s sure to hit Jordan’s prostate, wanting to make it good for him. Judging by the noises he’s making, and the way he’s pressing himself onto the mattress, it’s working.

As he gathers momentum, he snakes an arm around Jordan’s chest and pulls him up so that he’s sitting in his lap. The new position means he can fuck deeper, and they both moan at the increased sensation. Noah bucks up into Jordan’s body and feels himself getting close, the heat pooling low in his belly and driving him to press in harder. Jordan has a hand around his cock, stroking himself desperately, whimpering with need.

In the end Jordan comes first, moaning and spilling after a particularly hard thrust hits his sweet spot dead on. The spasming of his hole around Noah’s length sweeps him along for the ride, and they collapse onto the bed panting together.

Noah rolls them onto their side, not bothering to pull out as he spoons then together.

Jordan makes a happy, incoherent sound. He’s blissed out, his brain firmly offline.

Noah’s mind is still ticking over quietly though, as he considers what’s happened.

 Jordan wants to marry him.

 Jordan, who, impossibly, charmed his way into his life, filling the hole left by the loss of Claudia all those years ago.

Noah didn’t ever think he could fall in love again, yet here he is. He’s been in love with the younger man for a while now, longer than he’d care to admit.

A small part of him insists that he should say no while he still can, to tell Jordan to find someone his own age, to do the noble, selfless thing.

The much larger, more selfish part of his brain is screaming at him to grab this with both hands, for God’s sake, be in love and _be happy_.

He thinks about Stiles and Peter. He thinks about how they fit together, like the difference in years doesn’t matter. He thinks it probably doesn’t.

He tries to imagine life without Jordan. He can’t.

He thinks about Jordan’s words to him.

_“I want you, Noah, and I couldn’t be happier that I’ve got you.”_

And he curls around Jordan, and thinks _fuck it. I’m marrying him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOBODY WAS MORE SURPRISED THAN ME, GUYS!


	8. Breaking the news

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just our boys being in love.

Jordan can feel tiny kisses up and down his neck, and a hand running up and down his pecs, idly tracing patterns in his skin. He smiles to himself, and savors the feeling of closeness. Noah speaks first.

  
“So, the gym was actually a cover for pole dancing lessons?”

“Mmm hmmm”

“Peter’s a hell of a teacher, I gotta say. You looked good “

“Peter’s a _terrible_ teacher. He’s relentless. At one stage he said I didn’t have enough ‘grace and fluidity’ to my movements, so his solution was to throw tennis balls at me while I was on the pole. Said dodging them would help.”

Noah snorts at the image. “And did you? Dodge them, I mean?”

“Not even close. Werewolves are _fast_. And they throw _hard_. Remember those bruises I had on my thighs?”.

“Remind me to have a word to my son in law about assaulting my fiancé” Noah grumbles.

“Mmmmm. We still have to tell them we’re getting married. I hope Stiles is going to be OK with it” Jordan worries.

Noah snuggles in closer, and reassures Jordan “Sweetheart, let me just remind you that my beloved son got engaged, married, tattooed and turned in the space of a month, and didn’t ask my opinion on any of it. So pretty sure this isn’t going to worry him. Besides, he likes you. We’ll call them in the morning.”

“Good idea” Jordan agrees. “And remind me to send Peter a gift. He deserves it for putting last night together. “

“We are _never_ telling him that you proposed while I was naked and you were wearing black lace panties though. We’d never hear the end of it”.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Stiles finally wakes late the next day, he meanders out to the living area, feeling off kilter. The Damn Book told him that he may feel light headed and distracted after knotting -  he thinks that may be the understatement of the century. He feels stoned.

Peter pulls him onto his lap and nuzzles at him, murmuring sweet nothings in his ear. He assures Stiles that it’s normal to be a little out of it, and that once he’s eaten and washed, he’ll feel better.

Stiles eats the bacon Peter provides him with gratefully, has a shower, and then checks his phone.  He has seven missed calls from his dad, and two texts.

What?

He opens the one from Jordan.

**Call as soon as you wake up. Peter said you’re still sleeping.**

He looks over at Peter, who shrugs. “He wouldn’t tell me what he wanted, rabbit. Said he had to speak to you first. I tried to wake you, but you were out stone cold”.

The second text is from Noah.

**PLs rin nw**

He briefly entertains the notion that his dad has had a stroke, but quickly dismisses it – that’s just how his dad texts.

He dials, and Noah picks up after the first ring.

 

Peter can hear the conversation perfectly even from where he’s sitting.

“Hey, son. Wanted to tell you what happened last night”

“Wait, what?  Nooooo, please don’t- that’s just weird.”

Noah laughs then. “”Idiot child” he says fondly. “I pity your new stepfather”.

It takes a minute; he’s still groggy, OK?

“My what?”

“Well, stepfather to be, anyway” Noah amends. “He asked, and I said yes. “

Stiles tries to make sense of the words.

“Stiles? Son? Say something”

There’s a long silence as Stiles’ brain finally gets with the program.

“You’re…engaged?” he puzzles out slowly. “Dad, are you getting married to Jordan?”

“As long as he doesn’t change his mind, that’s the plan”. Noah sounds amused now.

“Let me talk to Jordy” Stiles demands.

There’s the sound of the phone being passed over, and a very hesitant “Stiles? Is this OK? “

“You _proposed_? Jesus, Parrish, warn a guy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I did. It was kind of spontaneous. He said yes, Stiles. He actually said yes!”

Stiles grins then, and exclaims “Oh my God, you’re getting married! This is awesome!”

Then he says “Wait, wait. I get to do this now”.

 He clears his throat, and puts on his Serious Adult Voice then, the one he uses when he’s scolding children at the library.  “I like you Parrish, but it has to be said.  Hurt my Dad, and know that Peter and I will end you. They’ll never find the body.”

 There’s a pause, and Parrish comes back with “You think I don’t know better than to piss off a pack of werewolves, Stiles?”

And then his voice goes all quiet and fond, as he says “I’d never hurt him. Still can’t believe he said yes. I’m so damn happy right now’.

And even through the phone Stiles can tell that he’s completely sincere, so he tells him “I’m thrilled for you, seriously dude. Now give the phone back to the old man”.

Noah grabs the phone back and demands “Son, did you give Jordan a shovel talk?’

“Sure did. It was great. Besides, I know you did exactly the same to Peter” he accuses.

(Noah isn’t sure how Stiles found out about that talk, but he’s going to just go ahead and assume Peter told him.)

“Seriously though, Dad. He’s good for you. I think Mom would approve. “

Noah replies “Yeah, son. Pretty sure she would.”

Stiles thinks this is getting dangerously close to emotions, so he ends the call with a flippant “Now get off the phone and go and be ridiculously mushy with your fiancé. “

 

He hangs up and turns to Peter, saying “Jordan called us a pack”.  

 “Well we are rabbit, didn’t you realise?” Peter replies, smiling fondly.

Stiles thinks about it. “I knew, but I liked hearing him say it, I guess. We’re a pack, Peter”.

“ _That’s_ the big thing you took away from that conversation? Not that your father’s engaged?”

He walks over to where Peter’s sitting and slides into his lap. “You’re not even surprised that they’re getting married, are you” he observes.

“It was only a matter of time, rabbit, those two are disgustingly in love.” Peter points out.

“True“ Stiles replies, as he starts nuzzling and biting at Peter’s neck. “Can we celebrate?’ he asks, pressing his hips forward suggestively.

“Oh, I think that can be arranged”, purrs Peter, his tone velvety and dangerous, as he carries his husband off to their bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll write a tiny one shot with Jordan pole dancing I said. It'll be tiny and cute I said. 13k later, now apparently there will be a wedding fic.

**Author's Note:**

> We get to see Jordan next chapter, I swear. This chapter literally started out as two lines about Stiles being too awkward to be sexy, and then the boys showed me a thing or two about how very wrong I was .....  
> Comments and kudos are life people :)


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